Men Can Hug!
by ILoveCheetos-and-AteIsa
Summary: Men are always renowned for being strong. But, what happens when faced with kindness and vulnerability? It takes a strong man to be able to resist these urges, but, it takes an even stronger man to allow himself to accept them. Even if it's just for just a moment.


**Not written by Ilovecheetos but IAMTIMELESS. It's by her friend, who likes to hijack this account.**

**AteIsa**: HIIII I'M BAAAACK

I kind of paused writing Hamilton Fanfiction some time last year. Then, for reasons I forgot, got back into it again after a while.

It feels good to write about my favorite children again. It's like wearing your favorite socks; incredibly comfortable in its familiarity.

Anyway, hope ya'll enjoy!

P.S., I srsly love platonic relationships! :D

* * *

Lafayette leaped down from his horse and raced towards his waiting friends, a huge smile plastered on his face.

Hamilton and Laurens grinned when they saw him. A moment later they both found themselves engulfed in Lafayette's embrace. The force of the impact caused the both of them to stumble backwards.

Lafayette barely missed a beat. He lifted them both back up with his strong arms and kissed the both of them on their right cheeks. When he released them, they were both quite startled, and very embarrassed. Their cheeks were bright red as Lafayette cried, "Mes amis! I have missed you so much!"

"We missed you too, Lafayette," Hamilton said, laughing nervously as he furiously rubbed his assaulted cheek. Some nearby aides giggled, and that made him flush deeper.

Laurens nodded, his expression strained. "Indeed. It's been much too long since we've last seen each other!"

Lafayette chuckled, completely oblivious to his friends' discomfort. "Yes, I agree. It's honestly surprising how long a week can be!"

Hamilton and Laurens both nodded. Then they noticed the nearby aides watching them, smirking widely, so they took him by the arm and pulled Lafayette away, flushing furiously. Hamilton shot them an angry glare before they rounded a corner.

"What is wrong?" Lafayette asked once they were out of earshot. He frowned when he finally noticed their red faces, and he repeated, "What is it?"

Hamilton winced, glancing at Laurens and biting his lip. Laurens ran his hand down his face, then sighed. "Now, don't get us wrong, Laf. We _really _did miss you. Really!" He inhaled slowly. "But..."

"What John is _trying _to say, but is obviously failing to—" He grunted when Laurens elbowed him in the stomach "—is that we _really _would prefer it if you didn't greet us in, um, that particular manner."

Lafayette blinked. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Hamilton and Laurens glanced at each other again. "I'm sure that you are aware of all the men who are serving here, besides us?"

"Of course."

"Well," Hamilton rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "It's just that we don't want to seem, um, _weak _in front of them. 'Have to maintain an image, you know. It's rather important for our, uh, reputation." He smiled nervously.

Lafayette was silent for a moment, thinking through everything they had just said. Then he frowned. "Oh. You mean you don't appreciate it when I'm publicly affectionate."

"No, no, no, that's not what we meant—" Hamilton immediately interrupted, waving his hands wildy.

"Not _exactly_, at least." Laurens chuckled nervously.

"Then what _do _you mean?" Lafayette asked, crossing his arms across his chest, scrutinizing the both of them closely as they both fumbled for a response.

"Umm..."

"Err..."

Lafayette's frown deepened slightly, and Hamilton, groaning loudly, finally consented as he confessed, "Oh, alright. Yes, it's true."

Laurens slapped him smartly on the back of his head. Hamilton cried out in protest and automatically swatted him on the shoulder. Then he rubbed the back of his head, giving the Frenchman an apologetic look.

"We apologize, Lafayette," Hamilton said, not sounding that sincere, if truth be told. "It's just that—"

"No, don't worry. I understand," The Frenchman lied. He even attempted to smile, but it felt a little strained. "And if that's what you want, then sure; I'll stop my display of such intimacy, for the sake of your, er, reputations."

The two were utterly silent. And Lafayette, unable to bear it anymore, uncrossed his arms and swallowed. A hurt look flashed in his eyes, and he slowly began to back away, mumbling, "Anyway… I ought to go. I have to unpack."

The two nodded slowly. Once he left, Laurens shot Hamilton a look, sarcastically exclaiming, "Oh, well done, Alexander! Way to tell him in a completely tactful way!"

"Shut _up_, John," Hamilton hissed. "I was just being _honest_. Besides, now he won't be so intimate. That has to count for something."

"I guess so," Laurens admitted, sighing. Together they made their way back to where they had both been unpacking some newly shipped equipment. It had been weeks since the last batch.

"Hey," one of the aides said, grinning. "That was adorable. You two and your friend, I mean."

The two other aides who were with him snickered, and Hamilton and Laurens' cheeks burned simultaneously. But they both ignored the comment and proceeded to pry open their designated crate.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with that." The man smirked. "It's not your fault if you're, ahem, _soft_."

Laurens threw down the gun he had just taken out of the crate, to the sounds of more laughter. He scowled furiously, causing the aide to snicker. "Oh, I apologize. Did I hurt your feelings?"

The other men roared in laughter. Hamilton shot them a fierce glare. Violently thrusting another gun back into its crate, he turned on his heel to storm off, Laurens not far behind him.

The aide snickered again and shushed the others, whispering, "Hush. Stop that. You might make them cry."

They burst out laughing again. Hamilton clenched his fist and turned around, huffing furiously. The men merely laughed harder, and Laurens, after taking a deep breath, grabbed his friend's arm and forcefully pulled him away.

"They're not worth it," he hissed, shoving him forward and away from the chortling aides.

Hamilton tugged his arm free from his grip, scowling.

When they made it to the safety of the nearest tent, they found Mulligan sitting at one of the tables, writing a letter.

"Hey," he said, looking up and frowning at their irritated expressions. "What's the matter?"

Laurens kicked at the dirt, and Hamilton sat down in another chair, crossing his arms indignantly. "_Oh,_ _nothing_. We were just mocked by some of the aides. Nothing truly terrible."

"What?" Mulligan blinked, surprised. "Why were you mocked?"

Hamilton scowled, looking like he was about to say a few choice words. Laurens intervened by saying, in a much calmer voice, "Lafayette. Thanks to him, they called us both soft."

Mulligan paused, then he frowned. "Lafayette? Was he a part of this?"

"No—well, yes—but he.." Laurens trailed off, and Hamilton interrupted, glowering as he spat, "Yes, he was."

Mulligan's eyes widened slightly, but before he could say anything, Hamilton continued, "But _no_, he wasn't actually there doing the mocking. He was just the reason why it happened in the first place."

"How so?"

Hamilton huffed. "_Well_," He began, jiggling his leg up and down in an agitated manner. "I'm sure you know his tendency to be rather, ahem, _affectionate _towards those he cares about."

"Ah," Mulligan sighed, shaking his head. "He did it again, didn't he?"

"Yes." Laurens rubbed his temples and groaned. "And honestly, it's awkward enough when he does it when it's just us; but in public! It's getting quite out of hand!"

"Indeed," Hamilton sniffed.

Their tailor friend gave them both a piteous look. "Do not worry. You two are not the only ones who have had to suffer through Lafayette's, er, intimacy."

"Really?"

He nodded, cringing at the memory. His letter lay forgotten on the table now as he sighed, "I was at my shop at the time, assisting some men with some of their damaged garments. Lafayette came in to give me a letter from the General. If I remember clearly, we both hadn't seen each other in about a month by then."

"Goodness. A _month?_" Hamilton's eyebrows raised up high.

Mulligan nodded. "And, believe me, I really did miss him, and I truly was overjoyed when we met. But, I just wish he hadn't decided to greet me there, or at the very least not in his usual manner. The men were still laughing at me by the time they finally left the shop."

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, Hamilton asked, "But, did Lafayette not hear their reactions? Surely he would have—" Then he stopped, remembering his and Laurens' own experience. Then he moaned and let his head fall into his hands in disappointment.

"Oh, Lafayette." Laurens cringed. "I do hope that our telling him off for it has made some effect on him."

"Agreed. I'm honestly beginning to envy Burr. At least _he_ doesn't have to suffer through this," Hamilton mumbled through his hands, exasperated.

The other two chuckled.

At that precise moment, a new voice cut through the air, asking, "Suffering through what?"

Startled, the three swiftly looked up. Immediately, they all stood to attention, Hamilton almost knocking his chair over in the process.

The General waved his hand dismissively. "Suffering through what?" He repeated, walking towards the same table Mulligan was sitting at and taking the piece of cloth on it. He pocketed it quickly.

"What's that, Your Excellency?" Hamilton asked evasively, sitting himself down again with a queasy sort of look.

"My handkerchief."

When Hamilton continued to give him a bewildered sort of look, he quickly added, "Martha embroidered our names on it." Then he frowned at them all. "But you're not answering my question; At least Burr doesn't have to suffer through _what?_"

The three glanced at each other, similar expressions of hesitation etched on their faces.

The General's expression darkened slightly, and he frowned. "Earlier, I saw Lafayette unpacking his things. When I went over to greet him, I noticed something was… off." His frown deepened. "You don't happen to have something to do with that, do you?"

"Uuhhhh," Hamilton said, drawing out the word longer than was necessary. He looked at the others again and mouthed, "Help!", but got no response. They were both just as terrified as he was.

Now, it was no secret (Or perhaps the two were just terrible at hiding it—no one could tell) that the General favored Lafayette, almost as a father would to his son. So they all knew that if they told His Excellency about what they had said to him, then, well, they weren't sure _what _he'd do.

The General stepped forward, and it seemed that he grew several feet taller as he towered over them, his arms crossing across his chest as he narrowed his eyes at them.

Then Hamilton made a noise that sounded oddly like a squeak, and he blurt out, "We're _sorry_, alright?"

Laurens winced, and Mulligan groaned silently. The General sighed, running his hand down his face. Before Hamilton could continue speaking, he murmured, "So, I _was _correct in assuming that it was indeed one, or both, or all of you who caused Lafayette to abandon his usual manner of greeting—along with his cheerfulness in the process?"

Hamilton stammered incoherently for a moment, then, in a weak voice, mumbled, "What do you mean?"

The General sighed heavily, then sat himself on the vacant chair beside Mulligan. Looking at them all with a solemn expression, he asked, "I'm sure you are all aware of his embraces, and his habit of kissing those he cares about by now?"

When the three nodded, the General gave another sigh. "I will have to be honest with you; I was also rather uncomfortable by these greetings when I first received them." He chuckled at their shocked expressions. "Yes, he has also done the same to me. At first, I tried to find a way to keep him from doing it again, for fear of embarrassment, but..." He paused, then, to the surprise of the listening trio, he broke into a small smile. "I have to admit, I've learned to appreciate them as time went by."

"_Really?_" Laurens cried, abashed. He stared at the General as if this were the first time he was meeting him, then asked, "But, were you never laughed at? For being considered, er, soft?"

The General raised an eyebrow. "Do you _honestly _think that anyone would dare to do so?"

Laurens looked down and laughed nervously. "Er, apologies, your Excellency."

Washington laughed. Hamilton's eyes widened comically at the sight, and that only caused him to laugh again. "Look, I understand why it would seem a little odd to allow him to continue to greet you this way, especially in public." His expression then turned serious. "But, you must understand; he's just being _nice_."

Hamilton fell silent, his guilt evident on his face. Laurens bit his lip ashamedly, and Mulligan looked down at his feet.

"Friendship—besides family—is one of the only types of bonding that can actually maintain itself through almost any kind of circumstance." He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and held it up for them to see. "It's just like this handkerchief. Every stitch; every piece of thread holds it all together. Without them, it would, inevitably, fall apart."

Washington then mimed ripping the piece of cloth. "But, tear at it just a little bit, and fail to sew it back up in time..." He trailed off, knowing that the last few words were not necessary in letting them know what he meant.

The three looked at each other again, their guilt evident on _all_ of their faces now. Even Mulligan, who had only made his discomfort and dislike known just now, swallowed ashamedly.

Washington sighed, pocketing his handkerchief. "Sure," he continued, "You can sew it up again after, but, by then, it would be too late. No matter what you do, that new stitch will forever overshadow the rest of the kerchief…

No matter how much you try to hide it," he finished.

Then he fell silent.

The three men—who now looked less like men and more like children who had just been scolded for something that they knew they had done wrong—were fidgeting uncomfortably now. After a few more minutes, the General stood up to leave. But before he did, he looked at the three of them again. "Of course, if you really think that it is better this way, then alright. I shall respect your choice. Just be prepared for the consequences."

He stared at them for a few more moments, looking as if he wanted to say something more. But then he finally decided against it, and he left.

Hamilton groaned and let his head fall into his hands. "We are such fools."

"_You_," Laurens corrected irritatedly. "If you had just let me handle Lafayette on my own—"

"This is _not _just _my _fault!" Hamilton threw up his arms in exasperation. "_You _were the one who poorly attempted to do it in the first place!"

"'_Poorly attempted'!?_" Laurens repeated, sounding genuinely offended. He walked over to Hamilton, prodding him in the chest and causing him to violently slap the offender's hand down in response as the said offender cried, "_You _were the one who had to say it so tactlessly!" Laurens straightened himself, and glaring, scowled, "Typical, honestly, that you did, seeing as you almost have no other means of making yourself heard—"

"_Enough!_" Mulligan cried, standing and shoving them apart before they could become even more physical. "Let's not say anything we will regret later. Like what you _both _did to Lafayette."

Immediately, that made the both of them stop, looking remorseful all over again. Then Hamilton sniffed. "But what about you? _You _were just telling _us_ about _your own _embarrassing experience—"

"Which I _don't _regret," Mulligan cut him off, making him scowl. "I was just telling the truth of what happened and how I felt about it. But I _never _actually said _anything _that actually _hurt_—"

"Alright, alright!" Hamilton shoved Mulligan away from him. Then, taking a deep breath, he sighed. "So… What do we do?"

Mulligan hummed as he thought about it. Then, a smile spread across his face. "I think I have an idea."

* * *

Lafayette moodily carried the last of the recently shipped crates of equipment down to where several men were already unloading. He dropped the crate down with a clatter, glaring at it as if it had been its fault that his friends had acted that way towards him. He huffed, then kicked it with his foot.

He cried out when his worn-out boot failed to protect his foot as effectively as he had expected it to. He hopped up and down several times, before slipping in the wet snow and falling onto his bottom.

Someone laughed. Several people did, in fact. Lafayette looked up to see three men (The very same ones who had teased Hamilton and Laurens just minutes ago) snickering. His expression clouded over, but he kept silent as he instead massaged the tips of his boots with his hand. He thought he heard one of the aides mutter something that made the others laugh, but he valiantly ignored them as he slowly dusted the snow off of him.

Then suddenly, another voice rang out, shouting, "Hey!"

Lafayette looked up again. His eyes widened slightly as he saw Hamilton, Laurens, and even Mulligan standing before him, glaring at the three aides with a burning fury that he had never seen before.

"It's one thing for you to call _us _soft," Hamilton growled dangerously at the three aides. "But _him _too? You've definitely got some nerve."

One of the aides raised an eyebrow at him while Laurens bent down to help Lafayette up. Hamilton continued, "So, if you _honestly_ think that for _one moment _that you can pick on _our friend_, then you're terribly mistaken." With a satisfied sniff, he turned to his said friend with a concerned frown. "Are you alright, Mon Ami?"

"Oui," Lafayette muttered, avoiding his gaze. Instead he focused again on his injured foot.

They were all silent, then, "I sincerely apologize, my friend," Hamilton muttered.

Lafayette slowly looked up again. Hamilton was staring guiltily down at his feet. His face showed genuine remorse this time as he looked up as well to meet his eyes.

"So do I," Laurens said, stepping forward. "What we said back there— about us being embarrassed by you—We shouldn't have said it. It was wrong of us to be like that when you were just trying to be kind."

"Which we really did not deserve," Hamilton sullenly added.

Lafayette stared at them, checking to see if they were truly being sincere this time. And immediately, he felt all of his hurt and sadness wash away to make way for forgiveness as he saw that this time, it was true, and he let out a relieved sigh.

"Please, Laf, do you forgive us?" Hamilton spoke up again, sounding desperate. Lafayette then realized that he and Laurens had not, in fact, seen his internal response to their apology. Indeed, they were looking rather scared by now. So Lafayette smiled—nay, _grinned _widely as he looked down at his friends.

"Of course I forgive you!" He cried, laughing. Laurens and Hamilton both melted with relief, and they laughed as well.

That familiar and almost overwhelming urge to embrace them came over him again, but he stopped himself. Even _if_ they had apologized for what they said, they probably still meant it.

But it seemed that they noticed his sudden hesitation, because they glanced at each other, and Lafayette thought he sensed a silent exchange occurring between them. The next moment, he found himself suddenly engulfed in their embrace.

Lafayette stumbled backwards a little. He blinked rapidly in genuine surprise as he stared down at his friends, who were determinedly keeping their arms wrapped firmly around him.

The Frenchman grinned, and, with all hesitation gone, returned the embrace, even tighter than they were able to combined. They both simultaneously gave silent little huffs as the air was forced out of their lungs. Then they laughed.

Lafayette smiled widely again and laughed as well. Mulligan, who was standing nearby, grinned, then joined them in their group hug, charging into Lafayette's back. He stumbled again, causing all of them to guffaw loudly in response.

Then they heard the three aides, who had been watching the whole thing, snicker again. The four stopped embracing immediately to glare at them, and Hamilton rolled up his sleeves furiously. He yelled, "Hold me back, John!"

His friend complied instantly. Grabbing him tightly by the scruff of his collar from behind, he held on as Hamilton proceeded to attempt to free himself from his friend's grip.

The aides, who giggled again, very abruptly stopped, and, after a tense moment, stood to attention as footsteps sounded behind the four. They turned around, and immediately found themselves mimicking them when they saw that the General himself was standing there.

And… he was _glaring _at the three aides. He was actually _glaring_, with his arms crossed, and a silent scowl escaping his mouth as he demanded, "_What _is it exactly that you find so amusing, Mr. Turner?"

Turner and the two other men looked at each other. All confidence and bravado had deserted them, and now they stood trembling as the General marched forward to tower over them.

"We—we were—they were just—" One of them stammered weakly, before he was cut off by Washington, who asked, "Embracing each other?"

"Well, yes..."

"And _what_," Washington asked quietly, "Is wrong with that?"

"Uhh," The same man said, looking to the others for help. But they both seemed too paralyzed by the General's glare to even move.

The General straightened himself, then turned away. "I thought so."

He turned to the waiting four, who were barely suppressing triumphant grins as the General turned back towards them. "Now," he said, something tilting at the sides of his mouth when he saw their strained expressions. "Why don't the four of you go and rest? I believe that the Turner brothers can handle this themselves."

"Yes, sir," They said in unison, hurriedly lowering their arms to scurry away. They deliberately had to look away from the brothers when they heard indignant groans escape their mouths.

When the four turned a corner and were sure that they were out of earshot, they all burst into a fit of laughter. The General, after a moment, caught up with them. He smiled, putting a finger to his lips as he winked at them, and they all grinned back.


End file.
